


I Want A Refund

by Attenia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Romance, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24448957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attenia/pseuds/Attenia
Summary: Dean knows that he deserves to suffer for all the harm he has caused to those around him. That's why he sells himself into a slave ring. What he doesn't count on is a blue-eyed EMT who is determined to save him. Trigger warnings for self-harm, eating disorder, panic attacks, suicidal thoughts and past rape.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 1
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

Dean

“Winchester, you’re up!”  
A flicker of hope rose in Dean’s mind. He dragged himself out of bed. Maybe this time, it would happen. Someone would hit him just that little bit too hard, and all this would be over. No one really cared what happened to slaves.  
The crowd roared as he stepped into the ring. Dean knew he should be putting on a show, but he just stood limply, waiting for his relief.  
His opponent was huge. Dean could probably take him if he was smart, but his job here wasn’t to win. It was to lose, something Dean was very good at.  
He pretended to dodge a hit, but really he was just making sure that he was hit even harder than his opponent had originally intended.  
The shock of pain felt like his head was breaking the surface of water. He could finally breathe again. External pain was something to focus on; so much more pleasant than focusing on anything else. The crushing despair of being alive. The hopelessness, the overwhelming sadness… no, this was much better.  
Bright blood was already running down his cheek. Dean loved it. Nothing ever seemed as bright as blood. They rest of the world often felt grayed out, but the blood was real and present.  
Dean lunged sloppily, letting himself get kneed in the stomach. A cracking noise told him that one of his ribs had broken. Dean struggled to breathe. Maybe this time, he’d get lucky. Was it too much to ask that the rib punctured a lung?  
About twenty minutes later, he was thrown back into his room, since he wasn’t able to get there under his own steam.  
Dean lay there, relishing in the distracting pain. His peace was interrupted by a knock on the door.  
“I told you no doctors, Alastair!” he yelled.  
The door opened anyway. It was a new guy. His eyes were almost as bright as blood, except in blue.  
“Go away,” Dean muttered.  
“Hello, Dean. I’m Castiel. You can call me Cas.”  
“I can call you ‘get the fuck away from me’!”  
Cas chuckled. “I’m here to help you, Dean.”  
“I told Alastair, I don’t want the medics seeing to me. I’m fine.”  
Cas came closer, lowering his voice. “That’s not what I mean, though I certainly will be treating your injuries. I’m an EMT, working with the police. We’re here to get the slaves out, Dean.”  
“Oh. Good. I can help you. The people here deserve better than this. What can I do?”  
“Just be at the cafeteria at midnight tomorrow with the others. I’ve arranged for the guards to ‘misplace’ the keys, so you should be able to get through the doors with no problem.”  
“Wait – no, that’s what I meant. I can help you get the others out, but I’m staying.”  
Cas tilted his head to the side, frowning in confusion. “Why would you want to stay?”  
“This is the best place for me.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Just leave me alone.”  
“Not until you promise to be there tomorrow.”  
“Fuck, I said no! I sold myself to Alistair for a reason. Sammy could have gotten a scholarship to college if he wasn’t too busy dealing with my shit. At least now with me gone, he can use the money from my sale to follow his dream without me holding him back.”  
Cas frowned in confusion. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.”  
“Damn right I don’t. Now get the hell out of my room before I call the guards.”  
“Not before I treat your injuries.”  
No fucking way. Dean had a broken rib. It could be his one big chance. If he was hit in the right place, over that same rib, it could puncture his lung. Alastair wouldn’t waste money sending him to a surgeon. Surgeries were expensive, and slaves were expendable.  
“Go away.” Before you ruin everything.  
“No. Let me treat you. You’re in pain. I can help.”  
Dean stared into those blue eyes. For a moment, he was tempted to accept the offer. No one had offered to help him in a very long time, and he could see that Cas was genuine. The other doctors had only been doing what Alastair paid them to do, but Cas really seemed to care.  
Dean knew he didn’t deserve that.  
“No. If you try to force me, I’ll scream. I’ll tell the guards you were trying to have your way with me. Trust me, Alastair won’t like that. He doesn’t appreciate others messing with his playthings.”  
Cas reached forward, as if to clasp Dean’s arm, but thought better of it. “I’m so sorry, Dean. I’ll get you out, I swear.”  
“Get the others out. That’s all I want.”  
Dean lay down on his bed, facing the wall.  
Thankfully, Cas took the hint and left. The confrontation had used up all of Dean’s energy. He let his eyes slip shut. Sleep would come soon enough, which would numb the pain for a while.  
Someone brought food through, but Dean ignored it. He only ate enough to keep him on his feet. It wasn’t like he deserved anything better.  
He didn’t have a fight the next night, which sent Dean spiraling downward even further into despair. When he was being beaten up, he was at least satisfying some kind of karmic justice. His mother was dead because of him. John might as well be – or maybe he was, for all Dean knew. Maybe he’d succeeded in drinking himself to death. Dean’s issues had thoroughly fucked up his younger brother.  
Dean knew that nothing that ever happened to him here would be enough punishment for all the harm he inflicted on those around him. The three years he’d spent here wasn’t even close to enough. Three decades wouldn’t be enough.  
Dean curled himself into a ball, clutching his hair, shaking with silent sobs. No one here reacted well to audible crying, so he’d learned to do it quietly.  
Please, if there’s a God out there, just let me die. I want to die. Please.  
The day dragged by. Dean could hear crowds cheering at a fight. How he wished he was there.  
He dozed on and off, unable to sleep properly. He could never sleep well without a fight.  
It was pitch black when the door opened quietly, letting in a thin strip of light from the corridor. Dean knew what this was about. Sometimes, when everyone else was gone for the night, Alastair came into his room.  
Dean cringed, but he knew that he deserved it. The pain and humiliation would be something to focus on, at least. It was better than the hell within his own mind. He got up and started undressing.  
“Dean? What are you doing?”  
Dean leapt back in surprise. “Cas? What the hell are you doing here!” He quickly pulled his shirt back on, not that Cas could see much in the dim light.  
“I’m here to rescue you.”  
“I said no –”  
“And I said yes.” Cas stepped up close to him. Dean tensed, ready to fight, but instead of fists, he felt a needle poking into his neck.  
Everything around him faded.

When Dean woke, he was lying in a bed much more comfortable than his own. He was in clean clothes. Someone must have bathed him, because he no longer stank of sweat and blood, but instead smelled of soap.  
He sat up, groaning.  
“Dean.”  
Fucking Cas. He was sitting on a chair next to Dean’s bed.  
“What the hell?”  
“I rescued you.”  
“I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T WANT TO BE RESCUED!”  
“Dean, calm down. You were held there a long time. You’ve been traumatized. I know you think you belong there, but you don’t. Please, just let me help you.”  
Dean should punch the fucker in the face, but his arms felt too heavy, whether from exhaustion or the lingering effects of whatever Cas had drugged him with, he didn’t know. “I don’t want help.”  
“All the same, you need it, and I’d like to give it to you, if you’ll let me.”  
This was the second time Cas had offered to help him.  
“What’s the point?” Dean muttered, his eyes on his knees.  
“You don’t have to feel like this, Dean. It can get better.”  
“And how exactly do you know how I’m feeling?”  
“Well, I don’t know the details, but I know you think you deserve punishment. You must really hate yourself. I know Alistair raped you. Judging on what I’ve seen so far, I’d say you’re also depressed, and maybe have a touch of an eating disorder, but you’d have to see a psychiatrist to be certain.”  
It was the wrong thing to say. Dean got up and pushed roughly past Cas.  
He made it about ten steps before he collapsed.  
Cas was there, lifting Dean up by his armpits. “You’re malnourished and weak. You need rest. Please, try to trust me, Dean. I want to help you.”  
It had been years since Dean felt what he felt now – a slight tingling feeling, rising up in his chest. Hope.  
If Cas was right, if there was even the mildest chance that the hell that was life could somehow be made less awful, how could he not take it? He knew he didn’t deserve it, but he found himself desperately wanting it all the same.  
He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Cas waited patiently. Dean took steadying breaths, trying to force the words past his lips. “I – ok. You can try. I can’t promise anything, though.”  
Castiel’s smile was brighter than the sun. “That’s all I ask, Dean.”  
“Where am I, anyway?”  
“My place.” Cas blushed. “I took the others to the hospital, but I figured you’re panic if you woke up there, so I had a doctor look at you here.”  
He was right about that much, Dean would have freaked if he’d woken to find himself in a hospital. “Did you get the others out alright?”  
“Yes, they’re all out. Alistair’s fight club has been shut down, and he’s going to prison. He won’t hurt anyone ever again.”  
“That’s good.” Dean looked around. “So… what do I do?”  
“What do you mean?”  
“You’re taking me in. I have to do something to earn my keep. I can do chores? I’m not much of a cook, but I can clean, and I can run errands.”  
“Maybe we can talk about that later, but for now, you just need to rest. I think lunch is probably ready. Why don’t you come down to the dining room with me?”  
Dean followed awkwardly, clinging to Cas’ arm for support and slumping gratefully into a chair at the table as soon as he spotted it. Cas poured them both bowls of thick soup with fresh, crusty bread. It smelled utterly delicious.  
Dean pushed it away. “You shouldn’t waste good food on me. I’ll take whatever you were going to throw out.”  
Cas looked horrified. “No, Dean. That’s not how you treat people. You’ll need to relearn quite a few things. You’re no longer a slave.”  
“I’m not hungry,” Dean said, just as his stomach let out a loud grumble. The traitor.  
Cas was clearly trying hard not to smile. “Just try? For me?”  
Eating always made things in his head worse, than this was no exception. Dean managed two bites of soup before it hit him.  
Alastair’s club had been shut down. Dean had no way to get relief; none at all.  
His throat seemed to be welded shut. He choked and gasped for air, but someone seemed to have sucked all of the air out of the room.  
Cas was suddenly there, putting his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “Just breathe slowly, Dean. You’re having a panic attack. It’ll pass.”  
“Can’t – breathe –” Dean managed to gasp out.  
“You can breathe, I promise. It’s just your mind playing tricks on you. Try to match your breathing to mine.”  
Dean tried, and to his great surprise, after several minutes, his breathing did seem to ease. Huh. Who knew it would be so much easier with someone else here. He’d had panic attacks before, but more often that not, he passed out before they faded.  
“You ok?”  
Dean’s mind reared up and seized him. Here he was, letting someone help him when he should be finding the nearest slave ring and throwing himself into the fighting pit. He was going to ruin Cas’ life, just like he’d ruined everyone else’s.  
He got up and ran for his room – no, not his room. The room he’d woken up in. Dean slammed the door shut and desperately looked around. There was a desk. He ran to it and pulled the drawers open haphazardly.  
There. Scissors.  
Dean grabbed them and drew the blade swiftly across his wrist. He hadn’t had to resort to this for years – not since he’d been with Alastair.  
The skin parted, yielding beautiful red blood. The stinging was a relief, and Dean cut deeper. He didn’t stop until he had twelve cuts, gaping wide and pumping blood.  
Smiling in relief, he lay down and let himself drift off.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel

Cas wasn’t sure what to do. He wanted to give Dean his space, but he also realized Dean was on the verge of falling apart and needed help.  
Eventually, Cas decided to give him twenty minutes.  
The moment he opened the door, Cas regretted not chasing after Dean from the second he left the dining room. Dean was lying in bed, bleeding vigorously. Cursing, Cas ran for his med bag. Dean appeared to be unconscious. Cas injected local anesthetic anyway, just in case he woke up. It took almost an hour to clean, stitch and bandage the wounds, at which point Dean was stirring.  
“How are you feeling?” Cas asked softly.  
“Huh?” Dean looked around, blinking. His eyes went to his bandaged arm. “Why did you do that? It would have healed on its own.”  
“Those were deep wounds, Dean. Leaving them to heal on their own would have risked serious infection. You could have lost your arm.”  
Dean shrugged. Cas wanted to shake the man and force him to realize that he didn’t deserve such scorn, but of course, that wouldn’t work.  
“You just rest, Dean. I’m going to make some calls.”  
Before he left, Cas thoroughly searched the room and removed anything sharp. He then did the same for the rest of the house, locking anything dangerous in a cupboard in the basement. When he was done with that, Cas called Pamela. Dean needed more than Cas could give. He needed a psychiatrist.  
Pamela listened carefully to Castiel’s story. “You’re right, it sounds like he really needs help. I’ll push a few things around on my timetable so that I can see him on Monday. Keep a close eye on him, Cas.”  
“What should I do about the self harm? About eating? I feel completely overwhelmed, Pam. I want to help him, but I feel like I’m not enough.”  
“You don’t have to be. You just need to be there to support him. I’ll do a proper evaluation on Monday, and we can go from there. For now, just try to be there for him.”  
For nearly an hour, Pamela patiently answered all of Cas’ questions. By the end of it, he felt a little better about the situation. He could do this.  
Cas made pasta for supper and brought a plate to Dean’s room. Dean was staring listlessly at the ceiling. He didn’t even seem to notice that Cas was talking to him.  
“Dean. Dean.” Cas gently nudged Dean’s shoulder. “It’s time to eat.”  
Dean’s eyes met his. “Cas… you’re a paramedic, right?”  
“That’s right.”  
“I… I need your help.”  
“Of course, Dean. What do you need?”  
“I need you to help me die,” Dean whispered.  
Cas closed his eyes for a moment, trying not to let Dean see his pain. “I can’t, Dean.”  
“You can. It would be so easy. Just the right amount of morphine, and I’d drift away. Please, Cas.” Tears spilled over Dean’s eyelids. “I don’t want to be alive. It hurts too much. Please, Cas, let me die.”  
Cas couldn’t help it. He pulled Dean into a hug. He expected to be thrown off at any moment, but Dean didn’t seem to have the energy to move. He hung in Cas’ arms, sobbing, begging to die.  
It felt like a knife had pierced Cas’ heart. Seeing Dean in such misery was agonizing. “Dean, I have another way. Just listen, ok? I’ve booked an appointment for you with a psychiatrist on Monday. You just have to hang on until then. She’ll know how to help you.”  
“Can’t,” Dean gasped between sobs.  
“I’ll help you, Dean. You don’t have to do anything except keep breathing.”  
“Can’t,” he repeated.  
Cas tried mightily to hold back tears. “Just relax, Dean.” He started singing a random lullaby that popped into his head. He stroked Dean’s hair and rubbed his back through his shirt.  
Dean’s head came down to rest on Cas’ shoulder. Cas kept singing until the tears had dried up entirely.  
“I made us supper.” The pasta was probably cold, but it should still be good.  
“No.”  
“Dean, please, you barely ate lunch. You have to eat.”  
Dean shook his head, tears starting down his cheeks again.  
Fuck, the last thing Cas wanted was to make him even more upset. “Ok, Dean, ok. No supper. But please try for breakfast tomorrow.”  
“I’ll try.”  
Cas pulled a spare mattress into the room, so that he and Dean were sleeping against to opposite walls. No way was he going to leave Dean alone when he was suicidal. Dean protested that Cas shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor, that he could take the mattress, but Cas insisted that Dean needed proper rest, and he wasn’t leaving him alone.  
It was a good thing too, because he woke up to a muffled ripping noise.  
Cas turned on the light. Dean started guiltily and hid his hands behind his back.  
“Dean, what are you doing?”  
“Nothing.”  
Cas walked over peered behind Dean’s back. There was a sheet ripped up into smaller strips and wound into a rudimentary rope. “What were you going to do with this, Dean?” Cas asked quietly.  
Dean didn’t answer, staring at the ground.  
Cas guessed that was answer enough.  
“Come. My bed is big enough for two. We’re sleeping there until Pamela says you’re safe enough to sleep on your own.” Cas was a light sleeper, and he would wake if Dean got out of bed. Cas would keep Dean safe, even from himself.  
“Cas, I don’t need…”  
“Now, Dean.”  
Dean hung his head and shuffled after Cas. He fell asleep quickly, but it took Cas hours to get back to sleep. He was terrified that when he woke, Dean wouldn’t be with him anymore.  
Just two more days, he told himself. Two more days, and he’ll see Pamela. She’ll know what to do.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel

Dean came out of the psychiatrist’s office, his shoulders slumped. He fell into a chair beside Cas in the waiting room.  
“Dean? How did it go?”  
Dean didn’t answer. He stared unseeingly ahead, not even seeming to hear Castiel. Cas was used to it. Dean had been staying with him for three days now, and he sometimes got like this. Cas knew he just needed to wait for it to pass.  
Nearly an hour later, it did. Dean turned his head toward Cas, though didn’t look at him. “Sorry.”  
“It’s ok. Shall we go?”  
Dean nodded, and Cas led him to the car. He was planning to head straight home, but Dean held out a piece of paper.  
“Doctor says,” he mumbled.  
Cas took it. It was a prescription. Daily medication, as well as a recommendation for a good therapist. Thank God. Dean needed way more help than Cas knew how to give.   
They stopped off at the mall to get Dean’s medication, then went home for lunch. Cas made burgers and put Dean’s down with a flourish. “There you go. Eat up.”  
Dean made no move to eat the burger. “I can’t do this, Cas,” he whispered.  
“I know it’s hard, but I promise, it’ll help.”  
“I’m just fucking your life up, like I have with everyone else. You should be at work!”  
“I told you, I got enough hazard pay from that last job to take a nice long break.”  
Cas was absolutely not leaving Dean alone. The last time he’d done that, he’d come back to find Dean throwing himself violently against the wall. Cas had had to take him to hospital to get his broken shoulder splinted. And Cas still had nightmares about the time he’d found Dean searching the house for things to make into rope.  
“I need to hurt. I deserve it. It distracts me. I don’t deserve food, or medication, or any of the other things you’re paying for –”  
“Shh, it’s ok, Dean.” Cas put his arms around Dean. Dean flinched violently, but Cas didn’t let go. After a moment, Dean relaxed a little. He sniffed, and the next moment he was sobbing into Castiel’s shoulder.   
“I don’t want to live, Cas!” he wailed. “My brain is broken. Pamela basically said as much – major depressive disorder. There’s no point, I’m never going to get better –”  
“You will, Dean, I promise.” Castiel held Dean as he sobbed, stroking his hair. “I know it doesn’t feel like that, but I swear, major depressive disorder is treatable. It may take some time, but –”  
“NO! I can’t do this anymore, not for another day, let alone the weeks it’ll take. Please, Cas, just let me die…”  
Dean pulled away and ran for the wall. Just before he hit it with his injured shoulder, Cas snatched him, pulling him into a tackle. “I can’t let you hurt yourself, Dean.”  
Dean struggled, but he wasn’t strong enough. Cas had been having a hard time getting him to eat, so he was still very weak. Dean started gasping for air as he struggled. Cas recognized a panic attack and grabbed the bag containing Dean’s medication. Yes, there it was. Dean had at least been honest with the Pamela, as Cas had requested.  
This was the third panic attack Dean had had since being here. “Here, Dean, put this under your tongue and let it dissolve.”  
Dean allowed Cas to place the pill in his mouth. It didn’t take long. The hyperventilating faded and Dean went limp in Cas’ arms. Eventually, when his energy seemed to desert him, Dean fell back to crying. Cas cradled him, his heart breaking, wishing he could do more.   
“Why does my brain have to be so broken, Cas? It’s so unfair… why can’t I just be like normal people?”  
Cas wished he had an answer. “I don’t know, Dean.”  
When Dean was finally calmer, Cas helped him to his feet. “You need to eat, Dean. Then you can take your medication and have a nap. The sooner you start taking your meds, the sooner they will work.”  
He managed to get Dean to eat half of the burger, then put him to bed. Cas spent the afternoon praying for the meds to work. He just wanted Dean to be happy.  
The next two months passed slowly. Pamela had said it would be slow, but Dean at least started to have some days that weren’t as bad as others. On the worst days, Cas would bring him his food and medication in bed. On the better ones, he’d teach Dean how to cook, or they would just sit and chat, or maybe watch a movie.  
Cas still didn’t leave him alone for long, but he didn’t need to watch Dean every second anymore. The credits of their current movie had just started rolling when Dean turned to face Cas.   
“You’re religious, right?”  
It wasn’t a question Cas had been expecting, but he answered it anyway. “That’s right.”  
“I need to talk to your God for me. Tell him I want a refund.”  
Cas stared at Dean in confusion. “A refund?”  
Dean pointed to his head. “This thing is broken. As I said, I want a refund. Or a replacement would work.”  
Dean’s eyes were sparkling in a way Cas hadn’t seen before. This was the first time Cas had ever heard him make a joke.  
“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Him yourself. I happen to like that brain of yours, even if it is broken. I’ll fight tooth and nail against it being replaced.”  
Dean’s eyes filled with tears, but he was smiling. “Thanks, Cas.”  
“You deserve to be loved. Speaking of which, I did some asking around. I think I’ve found your brother. I have his phone number, if you’d like.”  
Cas knew by now to expect anything. Dean might have a panic attack, or shout, or cry, or start trying to hurt himself.   
What he didn’t expect was to have Dean’s lips suddenly crashing into his. Cas made a small noise of surprise, but then his body took over. He kissed Dean back deeply, his hands tangling in Dean’s hair, his breath hitching as their tongues slid together.  
Dean suddenly pulled away, looking horrified with himself. “I’m sorry, Cas! I –”  
“Hey.” Cas put a finger to Dean’s lips. “Don’t be sorry. I’m not.”  
“I don’t even deserve your friendship, let alone – like you’d even want –”  
“I do want, Dean. I’ve wanted it for some time, now, but I didn’t want to push you. Especially after Alistair…”  
Dean bit his lip. “I don’t deserve you.”  
“That’s for me to decide. Remember what your psychologist said? You shouldn’t push your own judgement of yourself onto other people. I’m an adult. I can make my own decisions.”  
Dean nodded slowly, a small smile breaking through his troubled look. “Can I… can I kiss you again?”  
Cas found himself grinning. “Yes, Dean. Yes, you can.”  
Dean kissed him deep and slow. Cas groaned and pulled Dean closer. He had to remind himself that Dean had been abused before and he had to go slowly. As much as his cock demanded otherwise, Cas let Dean set the pace.  
He could feel that Dean was just as aroused as he was, which only made Cas’ cock harder. As if reading his mind, Dean undid Cas’ pants and pulled his cock out. Dean leaned down, opening his mouth, ready to take Cas in.  
Cas groaned in anticipation, thrusting his hips upward.  
Dean didn’t move. He stayed where he was, frozen and trembling.   
“Dean?”  
“I – I can’t. I’m so sorry, Cas!”  
“It’s ok, Dean.”  
“No, it’s not! I should be able to do this for you, but all I can think of is him and when he’d push my head down so much that I’d choke and I – I –”  
“Hey, come here.” Cas tucked his cock back into his pants and pulled Dean into a hug. Dean stared crying, clinging to Cas’ shoulders. “Dean, listen to me. I care about you. I want what’s best for you. If you need to go slowly, then we go slowly. If it turns out you can’t ever do more than kissing, then that’s fine with me. I want to be with you.”  
“Why?”   
He genuingly didn’t know. “Because I love you, Dean.”  
Dean’s face scrunched up as he tried to hold back tears. “I love you too, Cas – but I don’t deserve –”  
Cas silenced him with a finger to his lips. “None of that. I choose who to give my love to, and I say you deserve it. If you don’t like it, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree.”  
Dean nodded, taking deep breaths as his tears slowed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”  
The two of them lay together on the couch for a while without saying anything. It was a comfortable silence, and Cas would be perfectly happy to stay here all night with Dean.   
He’d spend his whole life with this man, if Dean would let him.


	4. Epilogue

Two years later  
Dean 

“You have the rings, right?”  
Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m your best man, Dean. I have one job: bring the rings. Do you seriously think I’d mess that up?”  
Dean didn’t answer, his eyes roving nervously around the room. He tugged at his sleeves. “Can you see my scars through the cufflink gaps?”  
“Only if I look really carefully, and no one except Cas is going to be this close to you.”  
Dean nodded. He didn’t need to hide from Cas, but he was still leery of people he didn’t know well seeing his scars, memories of the wounds Cas had stitched up almost two years ago.  
Bobby stuck his head through the door. “Time to go, Dean.”  
Even though Bobby was technically his boss, he’d become something like father to Dean, as he had been for Sam ever since John died. Dean loved working in Bobby’s auto shop, but Bobby had made it clear that Dean had better not show his face within two weeks of the wedding. Weddings required honeymoons, after all.  
Dean had a tranquilizer in his pocket, but fortunately, his nerves didn’t turn into a panic attack. He thought of all the times Cas had helped him through his panic, or bandaged him up after he hurt himself, or hidden things that Dean might use to kill himself. He remembered all the times Dean had coaxed him to eat, or held him gently when Dean panicked during sex.  
What had he ever done to deserve Cas? Without him, Dean would never be where he was today. He still had some bad days, but the depression was mostly under control, and he was getting there with his eating. He hadn’t hurt himself or felt suicidal in quite some time.   
Bobby took Dean’s arm and led him forward. Everyone turned to watch. Cas was waiting at the altar for him. Dean heard music playing, but all of his attention was on Cas.  
When they reached him, Dean abandoned all self control and threw his arms around Cas, kissing him. The guests laughed good-naturedly, and after a few seconds, Dean pulled away. “I love you.”  
“I love you too.” Cas pressed one more kiss to his lips. “Now what do you say we get married?”  
Dean’s smile felt like it might split his face. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”


End file.
